


Does This Make Us Friends?

by Altenprano



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, beauyasha in passing sort of, just some fluff, yasha is also a hopeless lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altenprano/pseuds/Altenprano
Summary: After a particularly difficult battle, Jester helps Yasha rebraid her hair.





	Does This Make Us Friends?

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the following tumblr prompt from Anonymous: "While the mighty nein are taking a moment of downtime after a fight, jester offers to help yasha rebraid her hair"

It was Yasha who dealt the killing blow to the hydra, the Magician’s Judge coming down in one swift, heavy blow to sever its remaining heads. As the beast fell to the side, no longer writhing and hissing, the barbarian felt her rage die down, a quiet rumble now in the back of her mind.

It had been a hard fight, considering the hydra’s heads would regrow almost as quickly as Yasha and Fjord could hack them off; it wasn’t until they realized that by following their blows with bursts of flame from Caleb. There was a point when Yasha was worried her rage would not be enough to win this fight, but, by the grace of the Stormlord, they had pulled through.

 _Thank you_ , she thought, gripping the medallion she wore on her belt and glancing at the sky, wondering if He was pleased. Surely, by granting her the strength to defeat it, the Stormlord expressed his satisfaction with her, and that alone should be enough.

The hydra slain, and teeth collected as proof, the Nein returned to the village that had entreated them to slay the beast. They presented their trophies, collected their pay, and settled down at the inn for drinks.

They didn’t stay in the common space for long, as they had their injuries to tend to (except Beau, who had engaged in a drinking contest with a group of boys about her age, maybe older, something which, on any other occasion, Yasha would have gladly stayed to watch), and Yasha was, in a way, glad for this. She knew her presence tended to frighten others, especially now that war had been declared between her homeland and the Dwendalian Empire, never mind that others of her kind—aasamir, not Xhorhasians—were few and far between as it was, and sometimes she felt she drew more attention than Mollymauk and Jester did, with their horns and flashy dress.

She was sharing a room with Jester and Beau for the night—she usually did, when she stayed long enough with the Nein—but, as Beau was downstairs, no doubt drinking those village boys under the table, it was just her and Jester for the moment.

Yasha liked the tiefling girl. Not in the same way she liked Beau, obviously, but she considered her a friend.

With each battle, Yasha could see her becoming more confident, though there was no doubt that some shadow of doubt followed the cleric everywhere.

That was another thing. Like Yasha (and yet, unlike Yasha), Jester’s life belonged to her god, the Traveler. She liked hearing the stories about Jester’s god, and she envied her, that she did not seem so much at the beck and call of her god as Yasha sometimes felt she was. But the Stormlord had saved her life, and given her the hope of redemption, and it was only fitting, then, that she repay that debt by pledging herself to His service. Jester talked of her god as if he were a close friend that she saw often, while Yasha was certain she would never call the Stormlord her friend.

“Yasha!” Jester greeted the aasimar woman with a strong hug, even though they’d just seen each other not even three minutes ago. Yasha did her best to return the gesture before the cleric let go. “I thought you were going to stay downstairs, and like, watch Beau.”

As much as Yasha had wanted to, she was tired from fighting the hydra, and sleep called her. “I’m tired,” she said, already beginning to take off her equipment in preparation for bed. “You can go watch Beau if you want.”

“No, no, no,” Jester said, plopping down on the bed and watching Yasha prepare for bed. “I mean, like, I’m sure she’s got this under control. Beau’s awesome that way.”

Yasha found herself smiling, and she was glad she was facing away from Jester, so the tiefling couldn’t see her cheeks flush. “Yeah,” she said, giving a shrug, trying to pass it off like nothing. “She is quite awesome.”

“Yasha?”

Once the blush had receded, Yasha turned to Jester. “Yes Jester?”

“Um, I don’t know if you noticed, but some of your braids came undone. It doesn’t look bad…I mean, you still look really badass, but I just thought you should know.”

“Uh, thank you.”

Jester gave a little jump where she sat. “Oh! I know! I can fix them! I’m very good at braiding. I can fix them and then they’ll look all badass when Beau comes back.”

“Alright,” Yasha said, going to sit on the floor by Jester’s bed, so the tiefling girl could easily work with the barbarian’s hair.

Jester set to work almost immediately, undoing the braids and setting aside the various beads and strips of cloth that Molly had braided into her hair, in a time that felt long ago. She was surprisingly gentle, carding through the dark hair with a surprising amount of patience (Yasha, admittedly, did not think of Jester as being patient. She was more like a young dog, full of boundless energy and excitement over every little thing), humming to herself as she did.

“You have very pretty hair,” the tiefling girl said, winding a strip of steel-blue cloth in with the braid as she fixed it. “I wish mine was long and pretty like yours, and that way I could braid stuff into it like you do.”

“I like your hair,” Yasha said. “It’s so…blue.”

It was true, she did like Jester’s hair. It was light and bouncy, like the cleric seemed to be, and It was the most lovely shade of blue Yasha had ever seen, more beautiful than a clear summer sky. It was blue like Beau’s robes, which made Yasha like it even more.

Jester giggled, and began arranging the beads into another braid. She began chattering about the Traveler, and how when they first met, he would find pretty things for her to wear in her hair, and then she moved on to talking about her mother.

“My hair was long once, you know, when I was little. And my mom used to brush it and sing—she had a beautiful voice—and she always braided it before bed, so it wouldn’t get tangled. But she was always so gentle and her voice is so pretty. Oh Yasha, I wish you could hear her sing! Maybe someday, though I don’t know when, because I can’t go back home because some people don’t know how to take a joke, you know?”

“Why did you cut your hair?”

“I wanted to try something new, and the Traveler thought I would look nice with short hair, and so I cut it myself!”

Yasha arched her brows, impressed. “You cut it yourself?”

“Well…The first time I did, and it didn’t go so well, because I didn’t think to use a mirror, you know? But the Traveler fixed it for me, and now it’s so pretty! I do miss it being long though, because it was always so nice to brush it out before bed and put it in a braid and put things in it.”

“Maybe Molly can help find something to put in your hair,” Yasha said, lips pressed together. She could feel sleep at the edge of her mind, beckoning her to lie down and close her eyes. She could feel Jester tugging at he hair, trying to get a braid to turn out a certain way, and the barbarian let it lie. It didn’t bother her that the girl was tugging on her hair.

The tugging was gentle, and so Yasha didn’t mind. When Mollymauk had helped her with her hair, he was always gentle, and quiet as he concentrated on placing each bead and strip of cloth that he’d found for her.

“There!” Jester clapped her hands together, and then pat Yasha gently on the head. “All finished! I hope I did a good job. I copied them as best I could but I don’t know if it’s what you want. I’ve never braided stuff into hair, just braided hair, you know? The Traveler knows how, though, so maybe I can ask him tonight.”

Yasha touched the new braids, trying to discern their shape from touch alone. “I think you did a wonderful job, Jester.” The braids felt different, but not in a bad way, no. It was similar to when Molly had first put the beads and cloth into them—different, but in a new way—and it brought a small smile to Yasha’s face. “Thank you for…for fixing them, Jester.”

“Of course! You’re my friend, Yasha—at least I think we are? I mean, I’d like to be your friend. You’re so strong, and so awesome, and you look so cool when you fight.”

The concept of friends was…it was still strange to Yasha. Before the Mighty Nein, she had only counted Molly as her friend, but now she had Caleb—she had called Caleb her friend that night in the merrow cave, and he hadn’t objected, so they were friends now—and, it would seem, Jester.

“Uh, thank you,” Yasha said, still sitting on the floor. She glanced up at Jester, who was grinning. “Of course we’re friends…I’d like it if we were friends.”


End file.
